Magdalen recovered herself almost instantaneously and welcomed him with grave courtesy, but she was unable to articulate.
He had seen the amazement in the four eyes turned on him as he came in, and cursed Colonel Bellairs in his heart. Why had not the old idiot warned Magdalen of his coming?
He had felt doubtful of his reception. A simulated coldness on Magdalen's part was, perhaps, to be expected. But for her blank astonishment he was not prepared.
"This is Bessie," she said in a shaking voice.
Bessie! This tall, splendid young woman. Could this be the tiny child of three who used to sit on his knee, and blow his watch open.
"I cannot be expected to remember you," said Bessie, advancing a limp hand. She fixed a round dispassionate eye on his heavy, irritable face, and found him unpleasant looking.
He instantly thought her odious.
And they all three sat down simultaneously as if by a preconcerted signal.
"Are you staying in the neighbourhood?" asked Magdalen, as a paralysed silence became imminent. A faint hectic colour burnt in her cheeks.
Lord Lossiemouth pulled himself together, and came to her assistance. Together they held back the silence at arm's length.